


How Are We Doing?

by aquilasaurus



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Enchanted Dildo, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Magic Lubricant, Obedience, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Safewords, Sex Magic, Spells & Enchantments, Strap-Ons, lots o' kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 23:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16628363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilasaurus/pseuds/aquilasaurus
Summary: Post 2.10. After the Academy thaws, Hecate helps Ada reckon with her role in bringing the school to this crisis point. Dom!Hecate pulls no punches, but gives Ada her catharsis. Hackle, NSFW, some light therapizing / hurt/comfort via kink.





	How Are We Doing?

“I’m not going to let you down gently, you know.”

“I know, Hecate.”

Hecate flicked her eyes down over her wife’s body. Ada was standing in the middle of the Headmistress’ office and made no attempt to approach Hecate, who was seated behind the desk. Just for tonight, Hecate was still Acting Headmistress. It took all of Hecate’s control to stay in that role, to keep herself from rushing over and grasping her hands and showering her with kisses and relief that, once again, they had somehow pulled through. But that was not what Ada needed.

“Ada, your actions put the school in danger. You ignored my misgivings and invited a snake to teach here, for the  _second_  time in as many years. You allowed multiple pupils to be frozen as the art teacher drained the Academy of its magic. You allowed multiple pupils to attempt to sacrifice their own magic for the Academy, and for one to leech power from the Founding Stone itself. It was, at  _best_ , highly irresponsible conduct for one who purports to be the guardian of the future of witchcraft.”

Ada stood silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the surface of the Headmistress’ desk, her face difficult for Hecate to read. She was still.

“Ada.”

Her voice wavered. “I feel that I have fallen short in my duties as Headmistress this term. For the last year, even. Ever since Agatha’s return, she has consumed my thoughts. I am in constant doubt.”

“You are your own worst enemy,” Hecate offered, in her first attempt at compassion.

“I have felt myself slipping, and the knowledge makes me ever less able to handle the task at hand.”

“Yes,” she agreed, simply. Ada finally looked up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were soft and open behind her spectacles, and it pained Hecate. But now was not the time for comfort, not yet. “And you know what you must do, don’t you, Ada?”

“I must repair the damage. Restore the students’ trust.”

“And the parents’.”

“And the parents.’ I must find the strength to be the leader this school needs again.”

“Tell me what you need,” Hecate said, her voice low and smooth, trying to move her along, to coax the words from Ada’s mind. She could tell that Ada needed the encouragement: her eyes were still searching, her fingers toying with the edge of her pink jumper. Hecate made an effort to soften her features, letting her eyes weave over Ada’s hair, her cheeks.

Ada cracked a smile for the first time, a slow wistful smile. She took a deep breath, as if expecting resistance. “I need quiet. I need to put it down, just for tonight.”

Hecate paused, considering her request. She flexed her fingers, rested her chin in her hands. “And you’d like my help with that?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Hecate said, with only the barest hint of a sigh. “Tomorrow we will begin rebuilding. Tonight we rest.”

Ada’s smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. Hecate restrained herself no longer: pushing her palms flat against the desk, she rose from the Headmistress’ chair and opened her arms to Ada, who fell against her with a soft thud, her face nuzzling into the fabric of Hecate’s collar. Hecate wrapped her arms around her, palms tracing broad circles over her back. Squeezing her tightly, Hecate initiated the transfer.

They rematerialized together in Hecate’s bedroom. Hecate stepped back, detangling their limbs, and glanced over Ada’s body. So tense, still.

“We need to get you out of your own head.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” came Ada’s reply. Hecate felt a slight twinge in her jaw.  _That_ was new.

But she could improvise. She put on her most commanding tone, the one she normally reserved for a certain pigtailed pupil. “Miss Cackle. Face the wall.” Ada’s eyes widened, but she complied without a word. Hecate rose from her seat and approached Ada’s back.

“How are we doing, Miss Cackle?”

“Green.”

“Good. I’m going to remove your scarf,” Hecate said, “and tie it over your eyes.”

“Yes, Headmistress.” With permission granted, Hecate removed Ada’s spectacles, then used her magic to uncoil the pink scarf from Ada’s neck and wrap it around her head, covering her eyes. She saw Ada shiver from the spark of Hecate’s magic as it made contact with her skin. She was so responsive tonight: it would be light work, to get Ada where she needed to be.

She bent down to whisper in her lover’s ear. “Now just be a good girl and do what I tell you.” Ada could not suppress a sharp intake of breath.

Hecate grasped Ada’s shoulders and steered her to the bed. When her legs hit something soft, she folded onto it.

“Did I give you permission to lie down?” Hecate’s voice cracked like a whip. Ada scrambled to her feet again. “I think you need to show some… restraint.” Ada licked her lips, completely unself-conscious of her own body now that she could not feel Hecate’s gaze. “Sit yourself on the bed, Miss Cackle.”

Ada did so, using her hands to hoist her bottom up to the height of Hecate’s mattress. Hecate peeled the pink jumper from her shoulders, smoothing her hands over her skin. She unbuttoned the front of her dress to remove it, then slid off her stockings. With a flick of her wrist, a slick black ribbon snaked from each of the four posts of Hecate’s bed and ensnared one of Ada’s limbs. Another swish and the ribbons pulled taut, pulling Ada’s feet from under her, plopping her onto her back.

Hecate could hardly contain herself. She took a breath and hoped her voice did not betray her.

“Ada, my darling. Would you like me to touch you?” Ada let out a whimper in response. Hecate felt a crest of relief: here was firmer ground, an easy way to pull back into her teacher voice. “No, that’s not enough. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes…. please, Hecate.”

“Please what?,” lingering over the snap of the  _t._ It hung in the air between them.

“Please touch me.”

Standing over the bed, Hecate lowered her palms to Ada’s exposed skin and began to stroke gently, from her shoulders across her chest and stomach, and back up to the soft skin of her throat.

“Harder.”

“No,” came Hecate’s swift reply.  _Not yet_. Ada pouted, a childish turn of the lips that amused Hecate greatly. How charming she was when she felt no one watching her.

Hecate rolled through her palms to press down with the pads of her fingers: with an even lighter touch, she began to wander aimless tracks over Ada’s skin. She brushed down to her elbows, the underside of her breasts, and further, to trace the curve of her hip. Ada began to squirm, frustrated by the languorous pace, the unpredictability of her path.

“Settle.” With significant effort, by the looks of it, Ada stilled herself, though she could not suppress a huff. Hecate removed her fingers, quietly charming one hand with a temperature spell. When she made contact again, it was directly on Ada’s nipple, and her touch was icy. Ada yelped.

Hecate’s other hand, still warm, went to pat the side of Ada’s torso. “How are we doing?”

“Green,” she replied, and Hecate began to scrape cold lines over Ada’s breasts. “Oh, green.” Ada liked a little sting. Hecate had not seen her this open and eager in years: she began to alternate cold scratches on one hand with warm, smooth caresses on the other, and Ada began to pant and hiss in response. Hecate climbed into the bed, kneeling between Ada’s legs, for better access. Preemptively, Ada raised her hips, only slightly: but immediately, Hecate’s hands shoved her back down. Ada made a half-strangled noise of frustration in the back of her throat.

“My, we  _are_ impatient tonight,” said Hecate, using the tone that made Ada melt every time, a tone of gentle mockery, seductive in its liquid modulations. Her hands adopted a similar manner, their pace increasing as Hecate plotted her next move. How keenly she wanted to fall upon Ada’s warm body, to melt into her, to welcome her home. But tonight was not for Hecate.

She varied her touch, long strokes to sharp scratches to hushed teasing skin-whispers. Hecate found herself needing to chart her course, to avoid falling into a pattern. Just when she thought she could only manage another minute at most, she felt the restlessness in Ada’s limbs start to dissolve. Her magic softened from a fizz to a gentle hum as Ada finally settled into her body: the realization must have dawned upon her that Hecate could drag this out forever, that until she behaved herself, she would not receive the deep touches she craved.

“That’s my girl,” she said, her syllables expanding like pools for Ada to soak in. Another steadying breath, in and out, another soft hum. Hecate placed her hands firmly on Ada’s hips, guiding her to turn over. The ribbons around Ada’s ankles released, and those at her wrists unwrapped from their posts, fastening themselves again on the opposite sides, when Ada had rolled onto her front. Reflexively she pulled her knees underneath her, sitting on her heels. She knew what came next.

Hecate’s flogger hung from a hook in her closet. She summoned it now, along with two other choice items from her shelf. Those would come later.

She swished the tails through her hand to let Ada know what tonight’s implement would be. “Do you like it?”

“Yes… please,” Ada responded, out of breath.

“Up on your knees, then.” Hecate wasted no time. She brought the tails down upon Ada’s bare skin, producing a small shower of pitter-pattering smacks. Ada gasped: she was never as ready as she said she was.

Hecate could be patient. She brought the flogger higher, brushing it against Ada’s lower back, then crossing her skin at an oblique angle, twice in quick succession. The impact came at a higher pitch, almost a whistle, with a whimper from Ada to match telling her that it was welcome. She paused for a moment, switching her grip, then took aim at the fleshy part of Ada’s thighs, underneath her buttocks. This time tails landed squarely, producing a satisfying thud. Ada moaned out loud, pitching forward on her arms, exposing more of her thighs to Hecate’s reach. Hecate took full advantage, bringing the hide down onto her flesh again and again. Ada’s vocal response amplified, until each impact had her pleading for more.

Time to raise the intensity. She stretched the handle in front of her like a staff, concentrating her magic upon it. The handle lengthened until it felt more like a whip in Hecate’s hand. At the same time, the tails grew longer, flaring to pointed tips that Hecate knew would leave welts. Starting with her most padded flesh, she cracked the flogger through the air. As the tips rained down upon her skin, Ada cried out, knees quaking. Hecate brought a hand to the crease of her hip to steady her, and felt the heat radiating from her body.

It was intoxicating, but Hecate wasn’t finished. Wielding the handle in a figure-eight pattern, she criss-crossed Ada’s buttocks and lower back with stings, her pace punishing, the impacts unrelenting. One after another, as Ada moaned and sobbed. She found herself counting: four, five… eleven, twelve, thirteen. Ada fell silent at seventeen. At twenty-two, Hecate put the flogger down.

The redness sprawled across Ada’s skin like a rash. Hecate smoothed gentle hands over her once again, pressed the length of her body along Ada’s back. She allowed herself a moment to bury her face in the back of Ada’s neck, inhaling the scent of her hair.

The tears soaked through the scarf that still restricted her vision: they trickled down Ada’s cheeks and onto the sheet.

“You did well, my sweet,” Hecate reassured her, still covering Ada’s body with her own. Her hands slipped between Ada’s body and the bed, stroking the unflogged skin that trembled with pain all the same. “I am here, right here with you, Ada,” she said.

Ada turned her head, plaintive, and Hecate leaned in to kiss her for the first time that night. As their lips met, the tendrils of their power twisted together and melted into one another. Ada released a moan against Hecate’s mouth, and Hecate pulled her closer.

The moment stretched on between them. Finally Hecate pulled away, murmuring, “One more.”

“Dealer’s choice,” said Ada, her cheeks tinged with warmth once more.

Hecate’s fingers were already groping for the items she had put aside earlier. A small bottle half-full of a viscous greenish liquid, and something else that Ada couldn’t see, but would know by feel. Hecate uncorked the bottle and dispensed a generous helping into her palm. The first contact with her skin: it sent a shiver up her spine. Still potent.

Carefully, she wedged herself between Ada’s legs and spread her knees apart. She reached between Ada’s legs, supplementing her plentiful warm wetness with that on her hand.

Ada let out an “Oh!,” followed by, “the goatweed, my favorite.” Hecate hummed her approval, knowing that it was producing a powerful tingling sensation, stimulating Ada’s already-sensitive nerve endings. Priming her. She then, as she sometimes did, brought her fingertips to her own core, allowing herself to feel the same sensations that she had given Ada, and would give.

The rest of the liquid she smoothed onto her last item, a well-loved toy. All three of them were now connected through this membrane, two witches and one toy. Hecate pressed it up against her entrance, her hips close behind. Ada’s breath caught as it slid smoothly into her. The moan came from someplace deep in her belly, and Hecate loved it. She snaked one hand around Ada’s front to rub two moistened fingers up and down against her clit. Ada leaned hard into Hecate’s touch. Hecate returned the gesture, squaring her hips tightly against Ada’s, the toy wedged between their bodies, moving by Hecate’s will alone. Ada collapsed into the mattress, Hecate on top of her, her hand beneath. Finally, here was the pressure Ada craved.

Hecate worked her fingers, relying on Ada’s weight to create the necessary friction, as her hips guided the enchanted toy in and out of her at a tempo just shy of frenzied. She needed to be overwhelmed with sensation, to blot out all else, and herein lay Hecate’s strength. As with many things Ada loved so well about Hecate, her consistency of rhythm, of pressure, made Ada lose all semblance of thought. She heard nothing but an ambient roar, as if her ears were blanketed with seashells, and felt herself in slow motion. She bucked against the steady strokes, feeling herself submerged, and short of breath. She made one last ragged attempt to inhale as her release overtook her, pointing and flexing in quick succession, each contraction disorienting her with the depth of need it filled. Unconscious of the sounds emanating from her, she felt only the pulsing of her body and Hecate’s and what she needed, what she needed…

As she came back to her body, Ada became aware that she was crying again. Hecate had fallen upon her, panting almost as hard as Ada herself. The scarf came off, the ribbons detached from Ada’s wrists and coiled themselves at Hecate’s bedposts. Ada rolled onto her back, taking Hecate into her arms at last, holding her.

They lay like that for what seemed like ages. Hecate felt that she should say something, but with the heaviness of sleep settling into her limbs, she couldn’t quite think of what. She hoped it had been enough, to draw Ada out of her mind and into her body, give her the safety of herself, to prepare her for the hard work of reckoning they would embark upon in the morning, together.

Ada’s lips were moving against Hecate’s hair. “What’s that?”

“Thank you,” said Ada.

There would be time. Tomorrow.


End file.
